


Out Of The Woods

by empathalitis, timeandteacups



Category: Hannibal (TV), Jagten | The Hunt (2012)
Genre: #EatTheRare, #EatTheRare Fest, Canonical Dog Death, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Unsafe Sex, WIP, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathalitis/pseuds/empathalitis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeandteacups/pseuds/timeandteacups
Summary: After Hannibal's untimely death, Will sets out to travel the world, searching for a way to find himself again. What he discovers instead is a man different from Hannibal in every conceivable way – except for his appearance. Lucas, a Danish kindergarten worker, is the spitting image of the late Hannibal Lecter. Moving on was going to take everything Will had, but now the odds are stacked overwhelmingly against him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Major Character Death is in regards to _Hannibal_ , we're tagging it just in case. Other characters are going to die, but Lucas and Will won't, don't worry :)
> 
> Lucas is not related to Hannibal at all, he simply looks almost exactly like him.
> 
> Written for [hannibalcreative](http://hannibalcreative.tumblr.com/)'s #EatTheRare event. We'd like to thank [danishnerd](http://danishnerd.tumblr.com/) for helping us make sure everything we've written in Danish is correct!

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Nothing like the sensationalized divorce courts on TV, mediated by famous judges with ex-husbands and wives at each other's throats. Theirs was simple. Easy. A mutually agreed upon separation, perhaps fated since the beginning.

It was for the best. 

He let Molly keep the dogs – there was no use in trying to fight for custody. Will couldn't care for them where he was going. She kept the cabin on Moosehead Lake, all the furniture inside, previously shared marital assets. All of the things that used to be theirs. 

None of it really mattered much anymore.  
It was funny how so many things in his life now suddenly lacked importance. Lacked the ability to make him _feel_. As if his purpose, his meaning, had vanished into thin air. Will had never experienced a numbness like this, this feeling of vacancy he’d never taught himself how to cope with. 

How had he gone from feeling much too much to nothing at all? 

Of course Molly had noticed the change. Had felt his loss of direction, the aimlessness that left him stagnant. She was too clever, too perceptive, and the last thing she needed was an emotionally stunted husband. It was no better for him to be dead on the inside as opposed to deceased. For all intents and purposes, Molly was a widow again. Hannibal had taken a vital part of Will with him. And Walter… Walter deserved better.

The words echoed in his head: _You can go home again. If there's any point. Is there any point?_

Hannibal had called him out on his charade effortlessly – Will was only ever that transparent when it came to him. No one else could read him like a book. No one else ever would.

When Will had told Molly, there’d been no " _baby please don't go_ "'s or " _we can work it out_ "'s. They both knew that everything was different now. That everything had changed. 

Will couldn't move past it. 

When they'd found him, Will had been close to death himself. Washed up on the shore, bloody and broken, still clinging to the body next to his. They couldn't take him away, had to pry Will from him, as weak as he was. Of course they had let him off the hook – Jack and Alana, the majority of the FBI save for Kade Prurnell, who still had a bone to pick. They'd visited him in the hospital while he recovered from his injuries. _Well done_ , they'd said. _Congratulations. You got him_. The words were hollow. None of them seemed to realize it took a monster to destroy one. 

It was true that he hadn't intended for Hannibal to be caught a second time. 

He also hadn't meant for him to die. 

Will still wasn't clear on the details. It’d all been chalked up to self-defense, a power struggle and one wrong step, a slip and down down down, crashing into the sea. Had he _murdered_ Hannibal, or had Hannibal allowed himself to be killed? _For love_ , the masochist in him suggested. 

It was a question that ate away at Will day by day. He had _wanted_ them to survive. Only he knew the dark desires of his heart, and they were secrets he'd take to his own grave. 

There was a time he had once entertained the thought of dying with – being buried next to – someone else. Of not facing the unknown all alone. Now it felt like something of a pipedream. 

The salt in his wounds: Hannibal had left everything to him. His mystic will revealed Will's name in elegantly penned script, the loving words with which he bestowed everything he owned. His estates, the money, every meticulous suit and little luxury. All of Hannibal’s priceless adornments, worldly possessions, fine pieces of art and artifacts he'd collected in his lifetime were now Will’s to do with as he pleased... It only made the knowledge of his death worse. Will had been floored; incorrigible, but even then he never shed a tear.

Not a single one. 

It wasn't contested – perhaps there was no one who wished to do so, but everyone that knew Hannibal knew it was his last request. It wouldn't have been anyone _but_ Will. He was, in a sense, all that Hannibal truly had.

Will wondered if this was true of himself. Now that Hannibal was gone, who did he really have? Who was standing there with him in the darkness? The answer terrified him. His dreams kept this fear alive, making him afraid to sleep at night. Every time he closed his eyes, it was the same. He became re-acquainted with his old friends, alcohol and insomnia. 

It felt like poor recompense, but Will paid Molly a large sum, more than enough to give her and Walter a good life. They wouldn't want for anything. It was the least he could do. 

Then, he took to traveling. Soul-searching. Going to places Hannibal had been, seeing things he had seen. Will spent some time in France, where he knew Hannibal had lived for a time and frequented often. It was easy to imagine him in Paris, with the towering Eiffel in the backdrop. He could envision him amidst the splendor of Madrid and Barcelona, the elegance of Vienna and Vilnius. 

Will wasn't running away, not exactly. He told himself he was trying to find himself again. Rediscovering Will Graham. 

He felt he couldn't do that without first finding Hannibal. 

And he did, in a way. Hannibal's spirit was among the ruins of Athens, Greece, and in the stunning beauty of Budapest. Will felt the echoes of his presence throughout Belgium and Luxembourg, where Hannibal would have delighted in the Renaissance architecture and small medieval towns. 

Perhaps, where he felt Hannibal the most, was in Italy. Returning to Palermo and the magnificence of Florence, the nostalgia nearly burned a hole through him. Will was overcome, scouring every inch of the city Hannibal would have loved to show him. 

Eventually Will made his way through Germany, past Munich, Frankfurt and Berlin, rich with history. After backpacking across Europe, he finally found himself in Denmark. 

Maybe this was his last stop. His final destination. There was nowhere left to go. Will found the thought comforting, felt at peace in knowing that this was where it would end. His howling could cease, the lonely call of his being trying to reach something, someone, that was no longer there. 

He had planned to visit Copenhagen, but instead stumbled upon a tiny Danish village nestled by the woods. At first glance, it looked, perhaps, as desolate as Will felt. But there were quaint homes lining the streets, and what looked to be a small school and bus stop nearby. 

He wondered, briefly, where he’d sense Hannibal next. Copenhagen seemed to be his best bet. 

Will spotted two figures in the distance, a man and young girl walking hand-in-hand. He made to follow them. 

"Um... _Und—Undskyld mig_..." he called, cringing at what was surely his failed pronunciation. The language didn't come easily to him, but still he tried his best. 

The sound of children playing reached his ears. Bird songs. The air was chilly, bitter wind chafing his skin and setting his cheeks aglow. Will caught up to the villagers and forced a smile, trying to look as friendly as possible. He wouldn't fault them for continuing to walk – he was, after all, a strange, scruffy man, covered in scars and smelling faintly of whiskey and Old Spice. Hannibal would have chided him over it. 

The little girl turned her head and caught sight of Will, regarding him with a curious look. “Lucas,” she said, her voice only loud enough for her companion to hear. Her little hand tugged gently at his. “ _Hvem er han, Lucas?_ ” 

It was Will who spoke up then.

" _Undskyld mig. Jeg er faret vild, taler_ … Uh… _Taler du... Engelsk_?" 

The man turned around and Will's unsteady world shattered in a single breath-stealing instant. He went still, skin prickling and the hairs on the back of his neck lifting at the sight. 

_Hannibal_ was staring back at him. 

His face, his eyes... Beyond the stranger's glasses, they were the very same. Something twisted in Will’s gut, fear and excitement mixed with an overwhelming feeling of grief. He could cry. He could fall to his knees – could feel them buckling already. Frozen and unable to speak, it was as if the air had been punched right out of Will’s lungs, chest tight and aching. _Burning_ , like his heart was on fire. 

Will closed his eyes and covered his ears – he wasn't sure what was real anymore and what could be a manifestation of his tortured thoughts. Whether he was hallucinating, or if Hannibal were somehow standing there in front of him. His body began to tremble, and distantly, a rational part of Will realized he was likely having some sort of a breakdown. An alarming development, but maybe this was a part of his process. A symptom of loss. Stage 6: Figments of One’s Imagination. 

He didn't think he could bear to hear the man's voice.

The stranger approached him, telling his companion to stay close to them and wait. He didn't think Will could understand what he'd said, but as he heard his voice he seemed to shake even more. Concerned, the man reached for Will, steadying him with hands rested on his shoulders.

“Hey. Are you alright?” Lucas asked in English. It was a pointless question, Will was visibly not alright. The man's body trembled under his hands. He could hear his ragged breathing. “Look at me,” he insisted, and Will did, his eyes wet with tears, dark curls falling into his face. Lucas wanted to help him – his caring nature as a member of a close-knit community made it impossible for him not to sympathize. “You'll be alright. You're safe.” 

Lucas’s hands squeezed Will's shoulders lightly, and he looked into the stormy blue-grey of the man's eyes. He did seem lost. Terrified. Paralyzed. Lucas wondered what had happened to make him feel like this. He wondered where he’d come from, what he was doing here of all places. Concerned, Lucas wanted to help this stranger he had never seen before. Protect him somehow. 

“Can you speak?” Lucas asked softly. He looked to Klara to see if she was still waiting where he’d left her, and even she had her gaze focused on the newcomer. He turned his attention back to him, too. 

Will nodded minutely, but it was enough for Lucas to go on. 

“My name's Lucas. What is your name?”

Lucas. _Lucas_. Will swallowed thickly, still trying to make sense of it all. Did Hannibal have a twin brother he didn't know about? It seemed unlikely, but Lucas... He was his spitting image. Well, nearly. He didn't have Hannibal's scars, or quite the same look in his eyes. His aura was different – less intimidating and dangerous. Much more gentle. Approachable. It calmed Will, as much as he could be calmed given the circumstances. He took a steadying breath. 

"I'm sorry, I just—I thought I recognized you." He tried to laugh it off, but coupled with his trembling and the tears in his eyes it came off less than stable. Probably closer to unhinged. "Thought you were someone that I... That I knew." 

He'd gone looking for Hannibal, and now he'd found him. In a sense. Someone that looked just like him… He couldn't just brush it off as a coincidence and let Lucas walk away, having one awkward encounter and then parting ways, never to see each other again. Will shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped it, digging around for his map. He pulled it out, smoothed it against his thigh and pointed to where it read _København_. 

“I have no idea where I am, but I’m trying to get to Copenhagen.” This particular village didn't seem to have a name – at least not one he could find. Or read, for that matter. “I’m looking for a place to stay. I have money. Er— _kroner_?” 

Lucas offered him a soft smile. The foreigner with gorgeous eyes did seem to be lost, and not entirely mentally or emotionally stable, but Lucas could offer help. He didn't think the man could find a place to stay anywhere nearby, at least not before sunset. Lucas couldn't just leave him alone. 

“You can stay at my place tonight,” he said, offering his hand for Klara to take again. She did, squeezing his fingers in silence. “I have a spare room, and I can tell you how to get to Copenhagen. You don't have to pay me for it.”

It felt like the right thing to do, after Will got so shaken up just from seeing his face. He wondered who the person was that looked so much like him, what impact they had in this man's life for him to react so strongly. Will seemed a bit uncertain, but Lucas wouldn't just let a man who didn't have a place to stay walk away. Not without offering help. 

“Please, I insist,” he said finally, watching Will put his map back inside his backpack. Lucas wondered if Will thought he was married, and that he’d be a bother. Lucas felt the need to reassure him. 

“This is Klara,” he said, looking at the little blonde girl as she stepped closer to him. “She's my best friend's daughter. I live alone - well, with my dog. But I can cook, and I have beer.” He gave a tentative smile, and thought he saw the briefest hint of one on Will's lips too. 

Will held his hand up in greeting.  
“Hi, Klara,” he said. The young girl didn't wave back, looking to Lucas instead. 

Will was still dazed. He wondered if there was a catch, or if everyone in this strange little town were this friendly. Dogs, beer, and an offer to be cooked for. He couldn't ask for much more than that.

“So,” Lucas said, breaking the silence – and his tone was almost flirtatious. “Do I get to know the name of my guest?”

Will’s face took on a pinkened hue. "Sorry, I'm a little..." _Crazy? Confused?_ His body tingled, felt heavy, the exhaustion of months of travel finally settling in his bones all at once. "A little worn out. Will Graham," he offered, mouth curling into what he hoped was more of a smile than a grimace. "It's... Good to meet you."

Will didn't trust himself to call him by the right name, but Lucas smiled at him again – _the same teeth_ , he thought, and how could that be possible? His heart beat faster. 

“Likewise.”

They continued to walk. Will trailed behind them down the pavement like a hungry stray, fall leaves crunching underfoot. He stuck his hands deep in his pockets, stealing glances at the back of Lucas's head every chance he could. The hair was different. Chestnut. Bangs swept casually aside by the blowing of the wind. It didn't seem to bother Lucas at all. 

Will felt out of it. He stopped, wiping at his eyes. "Sorry, I... I'm not feeling so well.” It wasn't a lie, not really. “I think I need to rest—I've been walking for a long time." _All over fucking Denmark._

Lucas turned around, still holding Klara by the hand, and wrapped his free arm around Will's waist, pulling him closer. Tightly, to offer him support. Will didn't look like he could walk much more without help. 

“We're close now,” Lucas assured him, and when Will turned his face in his direction they were so close he could feel Will's breath against his cheek. “We're just leaving Klara at home first.”

Lucas pulled Will with him, slowing his pace considerably. He wondered how long Will had been walking, and why. What his reason was for wanting to get to Copenhagen, though it was a popular tourist destination. Maybe he’d find out before Will took his leave. Lucas thought this would be a very interesting Friday night. 

It didn't take long for them to reach Klara's house. She let go of Lucas's hand and Lucas waved to her. 

“ _Farvel_ , Klara,” he said with a smile, and she returned the farewell just before running into the house. Lucas turned his attention to Will. 

“There,” he pointed to his own home, just a few meters away now. “That's where I live.” He could tell Will needed to rest, judging by the fact that Lucas was sustaining half of his weight right now. He would let Will lie down on his couch and prepare something for him to eat. Allow him to rest. Will could have a hot shower and later go to sleep in a soft, warm bed. 

He reached into the pocket of his coat for the keys, unlocked the door and let Will inside. 

“It's simple,” he said, closing the door again and locking it. “We're all simple people here. But you can make yourself at home, Will. It's good to have a guest. Have a seat while I fix us something for dinner.”

Lucas led him to the sofa and Will set down his bag, then let himself collapse with a weary sigh. Lucas's home was different from Hannibal's in every discernible way – from the interior layout and placement of furniture to the tranquil, modern decor. It lacked elegance perhaps, but was far from pretentious or overindulgent. Simple was a good descriptor, though he'd seen simpler. Still, Will found the contrast bordering on comical.

It was plenty spacious enough for a family, but almost eerily quiet. Perhaps Lucas really did live alone. Will knew what that was like. He wondered if he'd had a family, if maybe they'd lived here together once upon a time. He got the impression that Lucas was, in a sense, somewhat lonely. Though he'd mentioned something about a d—

"Fanny," Lucas called, and Will heard the scratching of nails against the floor, the scuffle of a small, short body. A friendly-looking spaniel scurried across the room, floppy ears with curls of dark fur swinging back and forth. 

Brows lifting, Will reached out his hand. The dog licked it, her lolling tongue pink and soft. He pet her silky smooth head as she panted happily. Then, as quick as she came, Fanny disappeared into the kitchen. Will’s thoughts began to swarm him again. 

He missed his dogs. 

He missed _Hannibal_. 

" _You_...” Will began, reflecting on the events that had brought him here. “You look like someone I was very close to.” He wondered if his behavior warranted an apology. If he'd been rude in his state of disbelief. It dawned on Will that he hadn't bothered to express his gratitude. 

“It caught me off guard,” he mused, loud enough for Lucas to hear. “Hell, I didn't even say thank you, did I?" 

"No need," he heard Lucas reply over the clink of dishes, the gentle clanging of pots and pans. "We're a small community, but we're a decent one. We just don't get many visitors." 

Lucas’s English was very good. He did sound like Hannibal, but his accent was thicker. Maybe he lacked the same vocabulary, but he was eloquent enough. Will slipped off his coat and leaned back against the couch. "Thank you, Lucas.” 

Lucas was happy. It was a pleasant surprise to have a visitor for a change, even if he wouldn't stay long. Will did seem like a good person, maybe someone he could befriend. Will could call him from Copenhagen and perhaps they'd keep in touch. It would be a nice outcome, but Lucas didn't want to get too ahead of himself. 

Will stretched out for a moment. He tried to calm the noise of his mind, taking in his surroundings. Released another huff of breath, but this time it sounded like relief. 

"Would you mind if I used your shower?" he asked, sitting up and gathering his backpack against his chest. "I've got toiletries. Razors, that kind of thing. But, um... If I could just borrow some towels and a change of clothes, I'd appreciate it. I can wash them right after." 

Lucas stepped out from inside the kitchen, drying his hands on a small cloth. His expression hadn't changed a bit, just as open as before. 

"I'll show you where everything is." 

As Lucas led him through his home, Will got to see more of how he lived. He seemed so relaxed, genuinely pleased to have him here, to cook for him and share in his company. Will couldn't help but believe there was a reason he collided into Lucas, and he was determined, one way or another, to find out why.

Will cleaned up well. The tension had melted away from his body in the steam of the shower, and the water felt wonderful against his skin, opening his pores and making him soft to the touch. Even his sore muscles seemed to loosen up underneath the heat of the steady spray – he washed his hair thoroughly and soaped himself up, rinsed, dried off and finished up in front of the mirror. Still a little damp, but fresh and well-scrubbed. A bit of a shave, a trim here and there. Nothing too serious, but just enough to take Will from scruffy to sleek. Or close enough, anyway.

Lucas had lent him some comfortable sleepwear: a clean pair of boxers, a longsleeved shirt and drawstring pants. They were all a bit big on him, but not by much. Their sense of style was oddly similar, wardrobes full of plaid button-downs, cozy sweaters, flannel pants and chinos. 

Will made his way back to the living room, calling out his thanks to Lucas and settling onto the sofa, bare feet curled underneath him. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, feeling safe and at ease. 

Lucas had heard Will return. After a few minutes of silence he noticed Will had fallen asleep on the sofa. Lucas smiled fondly at him and turned his attention back to the food he was cooking. Will Graham was a very good-looking man, sure to be popular with the townspeople if he stayed for any length of time. Again, Lucas wondered what he was doing alone and apparently so far from home – he supposed he was American, judging by his accent. Lucas didn't want to shower the man with questions, but the more he thought about his guest, the more curious he became. 

After their dinner was ready and on the table, Lucas went back into the living room to rouse Will from his slumber. Gently, he rested a hand on Will's shoulder. 

“Will?” Lucas shook him lightly, watching as he slowly woke up. _He's beautiful_ , Lucas thought when Will's eyes opened to focus on him, still slightly disoriented. Will had probably fallen asleep without even meaning to. Lucas wondered how long it’d been since he’d last had something to eat. 

“Dinner’s ready,” he said with a smile. 

“Thanks,” Will murmured, voice thick with sleep. He blinked, eyes narrowing at the enticing aroma of cooked meat. A savory kind of comfort, it was the scent of something familiar, perhaps a dish he'd prepared for himself. Something he'd maybe even fixed for his dogs. His stomach gurgled. 

Will met Lucas at the dinner table, and they seated themselves casually. He was greeted with the sight of a very ordinary looking meal – a generous slice of roast pork and boiled rosemary potatoes. A side of halved Brussels sprouts. There was no fancy plating or arrangements. Elaborate decorations made of edible flowers or julienned vegetables. It looked _wrong_ somehow, didn't fit with the image of Hannibal in front of him. _No, not Hannibal_ , Will reminded himself. _Lucas_. 

Lucas had made dinner for him, a guest in his home. A virtual stranger. Just a regular, no-frills dinner. 

It looked appetizing, and Will was definitely hungry, but he couldn't stop staring down at his plate. There was nothing the matter with it, but just looking at the meal made him want to laugh. Hot tears welled up in his eyes instead – they caught him by surprise. It was embarrassing. Ridiculous. He didn't know why this was happening _now_. 

All he could think of was that he hadn't sat down to dinner with anyone in a very long time. That some of his most vivid memories and poignant conversations had taken place at Hannibal’s table.

Will quickly dried his eyes with the swipe of his sleeve, reached for his fork and tried to eat. But the tears kept coming, as if the food itself was lending him the energy to cry. He had to stop and sit back in his chair. Take a deep breath. He couldn't lose it in the home of his proprietor over a straightforward meal. 

"I'm sorry," Will said, fighting the quiver of his lip, the intermittent tremble of his chin. "Do you have any alcohol?"

“Will.” Lucas’s voice was low. He reached for Will's hand that was still on the table and held it, covering it with his own. He doubted alcohol was what Will truly needed. This was a man visibly exhausted, physically and emotionally, and certainly as lonely as Lucas was, if not moreso. Lucas wondered if he had any family somewhere. Friends. He was afraid the answer was no. 

“I do, but… perhaps what you need is someone to talk to,” he suggested, hoping Will would open himself up to him, at least if it was to make him feel better. Lucas could make out a jagged scar on Will's cheek, and another, larger one on his forehead, almost completely hidden under the man's curls, and he silently wondered how many trials through which Will had persevered. He felt the urge to help even stronger than before, the flaring instinct to protect the man sitting at his table. 

“I'm just a kindergarten teacher,” Lucas said, knowing that Will probably wouldn't feel comfortable with sharing his thoughts and feelings with a stranger. Lucas definitely wasn't a therapist, but the kids often asked for his help when they had any problems. “But I'm a good listener.” 

He watched as Will let out a shaky breath. Lucas considered it a victory that Will hadn't pulled his hand back yet. On the contrary, the contact seemed to comfort him somehow, ground him. Touch starved, maybe. Lucas wondered how _this_ could be the reality of a man as beautiful as Will. 

“If not,” he said then, breaking the silence again, and squeezed Will's hand softly before rising from  
his chair. A few steps brought him to his fridge, and he grabbed two bottles of beer and placed them on the table. “We have very good beer. But I'd feel better if you ate a little.” He offered Will a smile, hoping to make him feel comfortable and welcome. 

"Thank you." Will tried his best to mirror a similar expression. He was wary. He didn't know how much he should share, or if Lucas would find the details of his predicament disturbing. It'd be no good to scare his gracious host. 

Will swallowed and tried to let down his guard. The worst Lucas could do was kick him out of his home. Maybe call the police if he felt threatened by Will's presence. 

"You're very good with people," Will said with sincerity. "I can see why children like you." 

He thought of Klara, she and Lucas holding hands as they walked together in the beauty of the season, all shaking trees with their colorful leaves blowing in the wind. Did Will really want to drag this man into his world? He was an innocent. He wasn't Hannibal. He _wasn't_. Forget the resemblance – he should just leave him alone. Only stay the night and not a minute longer, disappearing from his life without a word. 

He was just a schoolteacher at a kindergarten. 

Will speared a potato wedge onto his fork. 

"I'm ex-law enforcement. Used to work for the FBI. Before that I was a cop." He wasn't sure if it would make Lucas feel more or less safe. Will hoped it would at least explain away the scars. He knew they were unsightly. To his relief, Lucas seemed rather impressed. They began to chat amiably, with Fanny lying at their feet. Will ate every last bit of his dinner. 

The two men cleared their plates, and then they drank. 

The beer was cold and crisp, a pale lager that Will found refreshing and mild. It tasted clean, and not too bitter in flavor. Much better than what he was used to at home. Then again, he was more of a whiskey connoisseur.

After a few bottles Will found himself spilling his heart out, talking more than he had in weeks: about his divorce, his dogs, his home in Wolf Trap. How he used to hunt in the woods and go fishing in the lakes and rivers, the peaceful streams nearby that served as his safe haven. He told stories of his travels, the things he'd seen as he made his way through the European continent, visiting country after country, their capitals and most famous cities. 

They moved to the couch, where he could pull out the various tokens and souvenirs he'd picked up along the way. Will hadn't realized how long of a journey it had been until he found someone to share his story with. It felt like catharsis. 

And Lucas loved listening to him. They were sitting very close now, each one of them still holding a bottle of beer in their hands. Lucas had lost count of how many they had drank already, but he didn't care. It was a Friday night after all, he deserved a break after a busy, tiring week. They both deserved it. 

The two talked as the hours stretched on, well past dusk and into the night. Will made it a point to fill the silence whenever it reared its head – it hurt every time Lucas said his name. The more he listened, the less Will had to bear the sound. He mentioned Hannibal here and there. That he had died, and that Hannibal had loved him. Will leaned against the arm of the sofa, thankful to be sitting as the room began to spin. 

The more that Will talked, the more interested Lucas felt. He could relate to Will in his love for dogs, hunting, and the pain of his divorce, and he thought that Will was fascinating, perhaps the most interesting man he had ever met... but there was something he was more curious about: the man named Hannibal. 

“Not to be nosy,” Lucas said, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to come off as rude. “But was _Hannibal_ the man who looked like me?” Lucas shifted his position a little, facing Will.

He wondered if Will had loved that man back. Wondered if he liked men at all. Looking at Will now, so close to him, so relaxed, he almost desperately wished Will did. Lucas wouldn't ask this of him, but the desire was there, burning inside him. Making his body feel hot. 

“I'm sorry,” Lucas continued, “it's just… The way you talk about him, it sounds like you two were in a relationship or something…” There was a fondness in Will's voice when he spoke of him, and Lucas had the impression that, even though Will hadn't said it, he had loved Hannibal back. “I… I'm very sorry for your loss, Will.”

In general, Will never quite knew how to respond to condolences – he couldn't really say thanks or insist that it was fine – but this was the first he'd received in regards to Hannibal Lecter. Somehow, it touched him, though Lucas had no inkling of the gravity of his words. 

"Yeah. You look... Almost identical. It's eerie. Christ." It was equally as painful. Will had to avert his gaze. "You could say we were involved. It was less physical and more... I dunno. But the... The _desire_ was there. We— _I_ —would've." _Would’ve what?_

Lucas’s expression held a sympathy that was tangible. His face was flushed. Maybe it was the beer… Maybe not. 

It seemed to click then – the spark in Lucas's eyes, the perpetual curl of his mouth, as if he couldn't help but be intrigued by every word that fell from Will’s lips. How he listened, rapt, with such intense, singular focus. 

Lucas was _attracted_ to him. He was interested. Did he want him physically? Sexually? The thought made Will's heart pound. All he could think of was: _Hannibal wouldn't have liked this. He wouldn't have wanted to share._

It was fair to say that Will wasn't thinking straight, but somehow it made the idea all the more appealing. Will realized he was _angry_. Furious with Hannibal for dying. For doing so without him. He hated him for succumbing to his wounds and ultimately going where Will couldn't follow, not yet. It was unforgivable. 

"Doesn't matter now," Will slurred, as if trying to convince himself. "S’in the past." 

He wanted to think of anything but how much he hurt. Lucas was real, was alive and sitting right beside him, warm and inviting. He could have _him_. Indulge himself, just for the night. But he felt stuck, somewhere between wanting to forget the past and lusting for a one night stand with a man who made that utterly impossible. Will was broken. He knew if they were intimate he'd only imagine it was Hannibal… Not Lucas, the schoolteacher from Denmark. 

But he was kind. Genuine and sincere. Will could feel that. Lucas didn't want to take advantage of him, but Will was less than proper. He was tempted to push his luck. 

"But you know what I think?" he drawled, resting a hand lightly on Lucas's knee. He downed the rest of his beer and set the empty bottle on the table, gingerly plucked Lucas's bottle from his hand and placed it beside his own. "I think that maybe this is exciting for you. The mysterious foreigner—sleazy American with a bit of a dangerous background. I bet you like that." 

Will moved closer, fingers skating across the fabric of Lucas's pants, palm smoothing up his thigh. He wanted an unobscured view of his eyes, that face. Will slipped off Lucas's glasses. 

"Different from what you're used to. Must be a turn on for a harmless little thing like you. Am I off?" 

Lucas looked adorable. A deer in the headlights. Too cute _not_ to kiss. Will closed the distance and their lips met, warm and soft. He let his hand rove higher, with more pressure and insistence until Lucas was gasping, hot breath against his skin. Will used to opportunity to slip his tongue inside the cavern of his mouth, delving into the wetness and heat, where he could taste hints of sweet caramel malt and blackcurrants. 

Lucas moaned softly, the sound muffled by Will's tongue, and he reached for Will with both hands, resting one on his waist where he gripped his shirt tightly, and burying the other in Will's hair. Consciously, he knew he shouldn't do this, he wondered if Will was kissing him only because he missed Hannibal. Maybe Will was thinking about Hannibal right now. Lucas wasn't sure he truly cared. If it was just a one night stand, Will would leave tomorrow and they would move on with their lives. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Lucas responded to the kiss hungrily, allowing himself to stop thinking and only feel. Maybe it was an effect of the alcohol, but Will was right, all of this _did_ turn him on. _Will_ turned him on. He moved his hands down, until he got to Will's hips, grabbing him there tightly. He trapped Will's bottom lip between his teeth and pulled, sucked on it. It had been too long since he'd been with someone like this. Especially with a man. It only made Lucas want Will even more. 

As he slid his tongue into Will's mouth again, lost in the warmth of their kiss, Lucas's hands let go of Will's hips to move towards his groin, pressing down against his cock. He could tell Will was half hard, and he felt a stab of desperate need as Will moaned into his mouth. Lucas's fingers deftly untied the drawstring bow of Will's pants, and he slid his hand beneath the waistband of Will's underwear to pull his hardening cock out. 

He wrapped his fingers around it, feeling as it grew even fatter in his hand. His own cock ached in sympathy, and he wondered if he had ever been _so_ aroused so fast. Maybe they would regret this in the morning, but for now it didn't matter. Lucas broke the kiss to mouth at Will's neck, sucking and biting at soft, clean skin, his thumb slowly rubbing against the head of Will's cock. 

" _Fuck,_ " Will gasped, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched this way. Surely Lucas felt the same – living alone in a big house, his dog as his only companion. His body encouraged Lucas to continue, hips rolling into his grip, breath coming quick and ragged. 

Maybe this man wasn't as innocent as he looked, or as his occupation suggested. He was a man after all, and Will knew the hidden desires of lonely men uncomfortably well. Perhaps this way, he'd have the chance to do some of the things he never could with Hannibal. 

Lucas's mouth felt like heaven against Will's throat, and Will could feel himself throb hot in his grip as sharp teeth scraped over his Adam's Apple. He imagined they would have felt just like Hannibal's. 

His fingers tangled into Lucas's hair and Will pulled, yanking his head back to kiss him fiercely. 

Will palmed the bulge of Lucas's cock, could feel him thick and rigid through the crotch of his cargos. He couldn't imagine what Lucas must think of him, but Will supposed it couldn't be too far from the truth.

"I bet you'd suck me off if I asked," he breathed against those perfect lips, lost in the sensation of the warm body so close to his. It was one he'd missed keenly. 

Coincidentally, Will didn't even _need_ to ask – taking him in his mouth was exactly what Lucas wanted now. He sighed softly against Will's lips. 

“You're my guest,” Lucas said playfully, kissing his lips again briefly. “I have to treat you well.” He smirked and attacked Will's neck again, sucking a dark spot on his throat as he continued stroking Will's cock in slow, teasing pulls. He wanted to make Will come with his mouth, have him moaning helplessly as Lucas caressed him with his tongue. 

He pulled back then, kneeling between Will's legs. He wanted to please Will and couldn't think of anything else. Lucas slid his hand down to the base of Will's cock and licked the tip, his tongue swirling around the head. He already loved the way Will tasted, the way he let out a low moan and relaxed against the back of the sofa, looking down and meeting Lucas's eyes. 

“Good?” Lucas asked, licking the underside of his cock from base to tip. He took the head of Will's cock in his mouth, enveloping it in blissful wet heat and sucking. Will moaned in response and Lucas pulled back and smiled at him, feeling proud of himself. “Tell me what you like,” he said, his voice sounding deeper than before. At this point, he knew he would do anything Will wanted him to. He opened his mouth and looked up at Will as he sucked him into his mouth again. 

Will let out a shaky laugh. 

“I'm not... Not picky," he huffed, arching against the couch. He felt pleasantly warm, skin flushed and tingling, body lax as it thrummed with the buzz of alcohol. "It's been a while." 

A shudder ran through Will as he watched – it would be so easy to close his eyes, to just lie back and let it happen, but the sight of Lucas's lips wrapped around his cock was too good for him to miss. Lucas hummed and laved at him, making him slick with his spit and the tight, velvety glide of his lips up and down his shaft. His mouth was silken and so hot it made Will's toes curl. 

His nails dug into the denim of his jeans. He could see the ruddiness of his engorged cock disappearing into Lucas's mouth only for it to reappear, gleaming with saliva and pressed to Lucas's lips. Will swore. 

"You don't suck cock like a school teacher," he said, running his fingers through the dark strands of Lucas's hair. Will was struggling to remember his own name. 

As if in answer, Lucas swallowed him back down. He worked him steadily where he couldn't fit Will in his mouth, stroking him tight and hard as his head bobbed slowly in his lap.

Will's tongue darted out to swipe across his upper lip, and then he was panting, feeling the pressure beginning to gather at his pelvis. This time his eyes did close, outdone by the maddening seal of Lucas's mouth and the filthy sound of wet suction. It was sloppy, but it only made Will harder, thickening in the twisting grip of Lucas's hand. He moaned unabashedly. 

Lucas wanted to ask if many schoolteachers had already sucked Will's cock, but he didn't want to stop what he was doing. Will was beautiful like this, moaning and arching under Lucas's touch, _because_ of it. Lucas wanted _more_ , and he continued moving down on Will's cock, until his lips were around the base and the head was pressing against the back of his throat. It had been too long since he'd last done this, and he choked before he managed to pull back. 

But he didn't stop. Will's loud moans and the insistent grip on his hair encouraged him to keep going, and Lucas took a deep breath and deepthroated him again, holding him there for a bit longer this time before pulling back, just enough to breathe. Lucas loved everything about it: the hard, hot cock in his mouth, the broken moans Will was letting out, the way Will moved his hips up and pulled his hair, needy for more. 

Will groaned, head falling back, the ivory skin of his neck littered with love marks on enticing display as Lucas again took him deeper. _God_ , he felt just this side of perverse, his cock halfway down another man's throat – a stranger at that. Wicked, like he was taking advantage, but at the same time he felt justified. His eyelids fluttered open and when he looked down, past his own heaving chest, he saw _Hannibal_. Could hear, feel Hannibal. His face should make Will feel cold, but he was anything but. 

It was undoubtedly the closest he'd been to him since he lost him; in what felt like an eternity of wandering. Adrift, as if still submerged in the waves of the sea. 

And _this_... This was a way to have him and to spite him. Will's hips surged forward, bucking, and he buried both hands in Lucas's hair. Hissed at the rush of power and pleasure he felt. Pushed him down further, deeper, until Will's vision started to blur at the edges. Unfocused. 

He straightened, forced his head to loll forward and let himself thrust eagerly into the tight channel of Lucas's throat, muscles there working commendably to swallow around him. 

"I'm close," Will warned, legs spread wide, and at least he had the decency to do that much. Hannibal's name was on the tip of his tongue, but he fought the urge to plead for him. Bit it back – for how long, he didn't know. 

It’d be outright denial if Will tried to convince himself he'd never dreamt of using Hannibal this way – reveling in the grip of his throat, buried as deep as he could go. Those eyes staring up at him. Will had cautioned him, but Lucas didn't seem to care. Instead he urged him on, letting Will take control and chase his own pleasure. He wasn't going to argue. 

Lucas moaned at the words but the sound was muffled by Will's cock, and he choked as Will pressed in again, thrusting into his throat. Lucas rested his hands on Will's thighs, holding onto him desperately, fingers pressing hard into his flesh. He wished he’d taken Will to bed, undressed him, given him more than just a blowjob. He wanted _more_ , but he couldn't stop now. 

Will continued thrusting into his mouth, and Lucas swallowed around his cock as Will pushed it down his throat. He wanted to watch him come. Wanted to taste him and swallow it all down. Lucas lowered one hand to press it against his own cock, painfully hard now, still trapped inside his pants. He let out a loud moan as Will pulled back just a little, and went silent when Will pushed in hard again. 

Will had to bite his lip to keep himself from keening too loudly. He was going to come inside of this man's mouth, a man he'd just met, who'd offered him food, drink and a place to sleep. Who looked _just_ like Hannibal Lecter. 

Lucas swallowed just a few more times and then Will was shuddering from head to toe, cock pulsing as his release spilled down Lucas's throat, both hands holding him firmly in place. After a few long moments he finally pulled back, cock still spurting weakly onto Lucas's tongue, who didn't seem to be fazed in the least. 

He wanted to touch him. Repay him. Will kissed Lucas in a flurry of inebriation and post-orgasmic haze, fisting his hands at Lucas's collar and hauling him back up onto the couch. He came to settle awkwardly between Will's legs, half way off the couch, bodies pressed against one another. Will was close enough to mouth at Lucas’s neck, and he did so feverishly, sliding a hand back to cup the base of his skull. His other hand snaked down to the zipper of Lucas's pants, got it undone and grabbed him, achingly hard and blood-hot, to free him from his undershorts. 

He recoiled as if the flesh had burned him, only to smile lazily and lick a wide stripe across his palm. He took Lucas in hand, stroked him once from root to tip to get him slick, then began to jerk him off hard and fast. Dirty. Messy. Wonderful. 

Will was whispering against Lucas's ear, breathless praise, murmured confessions and _Hannibal, God, Hannibal._

"You feel so good," Will sighed, and with each pump of his fist Lucas's foreskin slid over the wet, flushed head of his cock. "I want you to come for me. Please, Hannibal—"

Lucas froze for a second, not enough for Will to notice. _Hannibal_. Will was obviously thinking of the man he had loved, the man who had died. Maybe Lucas should care, should feel offended, but Will's grip was relentless and it felt so intense Lucas couldn't think clearly. He held on to Will, gripped his shirt tightly, leaned closer until he could rest his head on Will's shoulder and moaned freely next to Will's ear. 

“Will,” he groaned, pulling at Will's shirt even harder, and Will continued praising him, talking dirty, moving his hand faster now, deciding to make him come fast and hard. Lucas couldn't focus on his words anymore, only on his voice, his loud breaths, and it was perfect. Making Will come had made him so aroused Lucas knew he wouldn't take long himself. He could feel it, so close already. 

“Will,” he said again, more urgently, not knowing that even his voice reminded Will of Hannibal. “Will, fuck, I…”

He didn't have time to finish. Will shifted and mouthed at his throat, biting down hard as he tightened his grip on Lucas's cock. Lucas tugged at Will's shirt one more time and came in hot spurts all over his hand, across his knuckles and in between his fingers, Will's name dying on his lips. 

Will reveled in it. He still felt the sting of his name in that familiar voice, but he was too drunk to register it for what it was. Only the use of expletives could really give Lucas away. Blissfully, he wasn't cognizant enough to notice. He didn't care to, happy to live inside his fantasy for the time being. 

Will's breath was still coming too quickly for him to catch, but he made an effort, panting hot against the soothing warmth of Lucas's skin. Thoughts of Hannibal ran rampant inside his skull, but he was, for the first time in a long time, something close to content. Enough to sink further into the cushions of the sofa, and contemplate the possibility of sleep. 

Lucas leaned closer and kissed Will softly, clinging to him a bit longer. He could still taste Will on his tongue. 

“You should try to get some sleep,” Lucas said against his lips. In his drunken state, he considered taking Will to his own bed, but managed to stop himself from making the suggestion. Part of him was convinced it wasn't something Will desired. Lucas wasn’t the man Will wanted to go to bed with. “I’ll show you where the guest room is.”

They detached, Lucas unsteady on his feet, and they both fumbled to put themselves away. Lucas's spend did not look misplaced streaked across the pale skin of Will's hand. Still, he'd clean himself off, crawl into bed, and sleep until morning. 

Later, they would either discuss what occurred or pretend it never happened at all – but that was a bridge they'd cross when they came to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danish translations:  
>  _Undskyld mig._ = "Excuse me."  
>  _Hvem er han?_ = "Who is he?"  
>  _Jeg er faret vild, taler du Engelsk?_ = "I'm lost, do you speak English?"  
>  _Farvel._ = "Farewell."
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! More chapters to come soon!  
> Come say hi to us on tumblr! [empathalitis](http://empathalitis.tumblr.com/) and [cannibalcuisine](http://cannibalcuisine.tumblr.com/) :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sorry for such a late update, we hope to be able to update more consistently in the future, but we may still need to take some time between updates because of other WIPs and hectic schedules with increasingly busy personal lives. Thank you so much for your patience, support and the wonderful comments that have been left, it's so amazing to see that people still want more!

When Lucas woke up the next morning, it took him a while to realize it hadn't all been a dream. He had invited a stranger into his home. He’d gotten drunk and _given the stranger a blowjob. Without any kind of protection._ Lucas squeezed his eyes shut again and groaned – he wasn't usually so reckless. And yet, he didn't entirely regret it. He only hoped Will Graham hadn't grabbed his things and left without a word while he was still asleep.

Rising to begin his day, Lucas brushed his teeth and took a quick shower, not wanting to waste more time than necessary. He was eager to see Will again, maybe convince him to stay for longer than he'd planned. Lucas didn't want to think about why he didn't feel like letting Will go just yet. He dressed better than he usually would on a Saturday, and decided to go downstairs.

As he passed by the couch in the living room, he noticed Will's backpack was still there. Will had probably forgotten it the night before, drunk and tired as they both were. It was a relief to know Will was probably still asleep. Lucas went into the kitchen and prepared himself breakfast. He wasn't sure what Will would like to have, and didn't know if Will would take long to wake up. Lucas decided it was best to let him sleep, God knows how long it had been since he last slept properly – and in a comfortable bed. 

He fed Fanny and ate his breakfast in silence as he waited patiently for his guest to wake up.

When Will finally came padding into the living room, he was appropriately disheveled – Lucas found the sight of him endearing, a warm feeling settling in his stomach, fluttery and light. A sense of pride and joy washed over him, and Lucas could get used to seeing his guest this way: wearing _his_ clothes, hair a hot mess, rubbing at bleary eyes and nervously running a hand over his mouth. 

Their eyes met and Will was at a loss for words.

"Coffee?" Lucas asked with a smile. The corner of Will's mouth twitched up only briefly, brow furrowed in his concern regarding the night before. 

Lucas had not magically turned into Hannibal Lecter, and last night hadn't make that any more of a reality. This was apparent to Will, and yet he had flirted carelessly, soliciting him for sex and taking precisely what he’d wanted... Needed. Lucas had been willing enough, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd taken advantage. An apology was perched on his tongue. 

"Thanks," Will said instead, stroking the nape of his neck. He felt nauseous and his head throbbed, but he'd nursed hangovers far worse. "Listen—about last night, I... I don't usually..." 

Lucas arched an eyebrow, but his kind expression remained. 

"I'm not always that desperate," Will continued, feeling the need to explain himself. "It's been a really long time, and you... Well, you've been very kind, and I'm... drawn to you for obvious reasons. You could say I'm a little predisposed." 

Fanny let out a sigh and lowered her head to the floor. 

Lucas understood being desperate – for contact, intimacy, affection. It wasn't as if he'd been forced, on the contrary Lucas had been more than willing. He was trying not to think much about the fact that _he_ hadn't been the man on Will's mind last night. It had been a one time thing, he didn't expect or assume they would do it again. He didn't have to think about it. 

“Don't worry,” Lucas reassured him. “Nothing wrong with casual sex. We should have used protection, but what's done is done.” Lucas didn't usually do that with people he had just met. He placed his mug on the coffee table and stood up. 

“I should have stopped you,” said Will. “I'm sorry.” 

But Lucas only shook his head. “No harm, no foul.” As a matter of fact, he’d quite enjoyed it. He was still wearing a smile. Please sit, I'll get you some coffee. Would you like something for breakfast?”

Will wondered if all Danes were this carefree. 

“Anything’s fine,” he said as Lucas ducked into the kitchen. He wasn't trying to avoid the subject, genuinely wanting to give Will an opportunity to eat. Will looked too thin, slight, even in Lucas’s old clothes. He felt compelled to feed him; make sure he ate regularly. 

Lucas came back to the couch with a plate of buttered rye bread and a cup of coffee for Will, and set them both down on the coffee table.

“It's not something I usually do either,” he said finally as he sat down next to Will. “I was married fifteen years and haven't been with anyone since Kirsten—”

Without missing a beat Fanny raised her head, launching into a spell of furious barking and interrupting him mid-sentence. 

“Fanny!” Lucas scolded. “Quiet!” He turned his attention back to Will when Fanny whined, relenting, and rested her head on the floor again. “Since my _ex-wife_ left. I hadn't been with a man since I was very young. My point is… we were reckless, but I… I don't regret it.”

 _That's good_ , Will thought. Neither did he – regret was something he'd tried to leave behind, tried to reconcile, but the regrets of his past still bit at his heels. They followed him wherever he went, overseas and across countrysides, into sprawling cities and quiet villages. Waiting to pierce holes in him and send him sinking. But they hadn't quite caught up to Will yet, though he wasn't sure he'd finally stopped running. 

He didn't want any more regrets – he didn't want to become one either. 

A thoughtful pause, and then Will let out a shrill whistle. "Fifteen years. Must have been a messy divorce. You have kids?" 

That brought a look of fondness to Lucas's face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "A son. Marcus. He'll be old enough to hunt next year and ready for his permit." 

"My ex-wife had a son. An eleven year old. I haven't been with anyone since Molly, and even then... When you have a kid finding time for intimacy can be tricky. After the divorce I was reluctant to get physical with anyone, but... I guess you ended the drought." 

Will hoped it was enough to reassure him. For a few brief moments, there was silence. He ate quietly, enjoying the dark bread, and sipped his coffee. 

"I don't know how casual I can be with you," Will finally continued, allowing himself to be vulnerable. "You don't want to get involved with me. I shouldn't stay.”

“Why wouldn't I want to?” Lucas asked. It was true that he didn't know his guest exceptionally well. Will seemed to have quite the dangerous past judging by their conversation the night before and the scars on his face, but as he looked into Will's eyes he could see that he was being honest. Maybe Will wouldn't tell him everything, but he doubted he was being lied to. 

“You can stay another day,” Lucas continued, not waiting for an answer. He wondered if he sounded too desperate. Making Will feel uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted, but if he had the opportunity to spend more time with his mysterious guest he couldn't just let it go. “You can even stay the weekend, and leave on Monday if you want. Allow yourself to get some rest… Sleep in a comfortable bed for two more nights.” 

Lucas wanted more, of course. He wanted Will to sleep in _his_ bed, wanted to touch him again. He wouldn't ask for it, but he wouldn't say no if Will asked. 

“This is your home,” Will replied, taking in the fine details he'd missed the day before. “Not a bed and breakfast.” He'd hate to overstay his welcome. 

“You're right. I won't wash your dishes for you.” 

Will rolled his eyes and rose from the couch, Lucas following close behind. 

“Of course you're free to go if that's what you want,” Lucas said then, “but I… I'd like to spend more time with you. Get to know you, maybe. If you're amenable.”

Will set his empty plate and coffee cup aside, then traced the ridge of his scar with his fingers, over the shirt Lucas had lent him. It itched, a tingling numbness scratching at him from the inside, a physical manifestation of Hannibal's memory. On his body, his marred skin, he still existed. 

Lucas’s desire to know him puzzled Will. It was inexplicable, just as Hannibal’s interest had been. Hannibal had glimpsed something dark in him, something that resonated with his own nature. What did _Lucas_ see? On the surface they were much the same, but deeper than that, Will was tainted. He considered the man’s innocence, his relaxed temperament. Lucas was kind, but his curiosity was only a threat to his own well being. 

"I don't think you know what you're asking," Will said as he turned to face him. He was torn between wanting to warn him and not wanting to scare Lucas away. "You don't want to risk getting wrapped up in my world. It's an ugly place." 

Too dark for a kindergarten teacher. Will shifted, his eyes glinting dangerously as he stepped closer, his movements calculated and precise. He lowered his voice, testing the waters. Pushing. 

"I'm not from your quiet little village—you don't even know me. I could be a wanted man. A killer." 

Lucas didn't look afraid – a combination of bravery and naivety. Will closed the distance between them until he could feel Lucas's breath against his face. Fanny stirred from her spot on the floor, cocking her head with a clink of her collar. 

"I could take advantage of your hospitality in all sorts of ways,” Will warned. “Last night was just a taste." 

Casual sex was one thing – but Lucas was bargaining for more. It made Will want to cut and run; under any other circumstance he would have, but something kept him planted firmly right where he was. Maybe he was meant to face this. To have it, own it, at least for a little while. 

But Lucas was not his, he was not for him. Off limits in every way but the purely physical, Will wasn't sure if it would be enough. 

“You don't look like a killer to me,” Lucas said softly. Will had said just the night before that he used to be law enforcement. If that wasn't a lie, then Will was certainly not a killer. 

“And you don't look like a hunter,” Will replied. “But you are.” 

Lucas knew what was going on. Will had recently divorced his wife and lost the man he was in love with. Lucas couldn't even imagine how messy all this was, how damaged Will must feel. It wouldn't be a surprise if Will was afraid of intimacy and commitment after everything that had happened to him. Lucas wondered if Will would have had sex with him if it wasn't for all the beer he’d downed. Will was saying that Lucas should stay away, but it seemed that _he_ was the one wanting to run, to keep his distance. Lucas wanted to help him – show him that he didn't have to be alone. 

“I wouldn't doubt that you can be dangerous if you want to be,” Lucas said with a smile. “But you told me you worked for the FBI. I don't think you're a killer at all. You're not going to scare me away, Will.”

He stepped closer and lifted his hand to cup Will's cheek, looking into his eyes as they breathed into each other. 

“I like you,” he said then, and it didn't feel wrong even though they had met just the day before. “I think you're a good man, but bad things happened to you. I think you deserve to be happy.”

Will relaxed his posture, deflated. Lucas couldn't be more wrong about him – he'd pulled the wool right over his eyes. He had him fooled. Perhaps ignorance was best. By no means was Lucas a bad man, not rude or inconsiderate in the slightest. It would give Will no thrill to wrong him… No sense of power or justice to be served. 

Should he act like the person Lucas thought he was, or keep him at a distance? He seemed interested in a friends-with-benefits scenario – not something Will had much experience with due to a typical absence of friends. But life was too short not to take risks, Will knew that. His conscience was the only thing stopping him, but the closer he got to Lucas he knew the harder it would be to leave. 

If he deserved happiness, then Lucas deserved peace. 

"Do you go hunting out here?" Will asked, stepping away toward the window. Maybe it was best to change the topic for now. The woods were dense, but there was enough sunshine to break through the canopy and onto the forest floor. 

The thing about peace was you didn't miss it until it was gone.

“Yes.” Lucas smiled. It was a good sign that Will decided to ask him about hunting instead of insisting on leaving. Lucas moved a few steps closer to him, but not enough to touch. “I do. My friends too.”

He wondered how many more things he and Will had in common. He felt curious about Will, wanted to know more about his past and the things he liked to do. Things that were important to him. 

“If you like to hunt, we could get you a license,” Lucas said with a chuckle. “But it takes a while, you'd probably have to stay for another four weeks.” It was just a joke, but somewhere deep inside he wished that Will could somehow stay that long. 

Will could only huff out a polite laugh, scratching at the back of his neck. 

"I'd have to start paying rent," he quipped, but he didn't want to lead Lucas on. Will could see the faint sparkle in his eyes – Hannibal used to look at him much the same. 

"It's been awhile since I've handled anything—uh, any firearm—bigger than a handgun. My aim probably needs some work, but I bet you're a crack shot." 

Lucas beamed at the compliment, poised to continue the friendly banter when his cellphone rang. He retrieved it from his pocket, took one glance, and his face fell. 

"Excuse me," Lucas said, and he turned slowly, his back to Will as he moved toward the couch. " _Det er Lucas_.” A pause. “ _Hallo, Kirsten._ " 

Immediately, Fanny erupted into a loud clamor of barking, and Lucas covered the ear not pressed to the receiver in an effort to drown out the sound. This was the second time his dog had reacted this way – Will wondered if she'd been trained to do so or if it was a defensive behavior she'd picked up on her own. It didn't bode well for Kirsten that the very sound of her name drove a sweet old dog like Fanny to hysterics. It was an unusual response, but likely one of stress. 

Will approached the frenzied pooch and knelt until he was at her level, then leant in to whisper softly to her and scratch behind warm, floppy ears. Fanny’s barking grew quieter, and he could no longer see the whites of her eyes.

Eventually Fanny settled, and Will could hear Lucas’s voice clearly. Still just as achingly familiar, but it had a different character in Danish. He was speaking too quickly for Will to understand, but he sounded surprisingly pleased. Pleasant. There was a renewed energy to him; he seemed to thrum with it. 

Will straightened and returned to lean against the wall beside the window, but it was Lucas who held his attention. When he heard him say _Marcus_ in greeting, he knew it had to be good news. It was heartwarming to hear the joy in his voice as he spoke to his son, his posture relaxing. Will kept his eyes fixed on the back of Lucas’s head, and when he turned to smile at him Will’s stomach fluttered. It had caught him off guard. 

Slowly, Will lowered his gaze, but couldn't help the answering curl of his lips. It’d been a long time since anyone's happiness had had any bearing on his own. 

“My son,” Lucas said with a smile, sliding his phone into the pocket of his pants. It'd been a long time since he'd heard such good news. “Marcus. He says he wants to move in with me. Since the divorce Kirsten insisted in only letting him come here every other weekend,” he explained, ignoring Fanny’s barks of protest. He was too happy to care. “But now he's decided to move in with me.”

Lucas was happy he had someone to share the amazing news with. He hoped Will would stay long enough to meet Marcus, but he still didn't know exactly when he'd be coming. It was best not to get his hopes too high. Still, some sort of celebration was in order.

“Come have a beer, let's celebrate,” he said then, and went to grab two bottles of beer from the fridge in the kitchen. He didn't care that it was still morning, and hoped Will wouldn't care either. This was the best day he’d had in a long time. 

“He seems to enjoy staying here,” Lucas said as he popped open the bottles and returned to the living room to hand one to Will. “We've always had fun together.” Lucas just couldn't stop smiling. Will's fingers brushed against his own as Will grabbed his bottle, and they smiled at each other. Lucas missed the touch of those fingers, those lips pressed against his own. 

Will held Lucas’s steady gaze for as long as he could before he had to tear his eyes away. He cleared his throat to pierce the quiet of the moment. The news had largely managed to put him at ease. Will knew he couldn't stay, he still had a final destination, one last city to experience before he reached his journey's end. There was no way of knowing if he'd find what he was looking for; if he'd get any closer than _this_ , but it was clear that he didn't belong here, a quiet little village he didn't even know the name of. 

Will wouldn't feel so guilty about leaving – about fooling around with Lucas – now that he knew his son would be coming to stay. Living alone didn't seem to suit him... He'd be happier this way. Will's smile widened at the thought.

"Congrats," he said, and held out his Carlsberg. "How do you say cheers in Danish?" 

Lucas lit up at the question, adjusting his glasses with a chuckle. "Skål," he replied. 

" _Skål_." 

They clinked their bottles together and took a swig of their drinks. It was surprisingly strong for a beer, rich and malty, but it went down easily enough. It wasn't like Will to drink so early, especially before he'd even gotten dressed, but he had no problem humoring his host. 

After another beer, Will excused himself for a shower and change of clothes. As promised, he made an effort to do the laundry, washing and drying what Lucas had lent him to sleep in. When he returned Lucas was still in good spirits, and Will asked more about his son, happy to bolster his excitement. 

Another Pilsner and Lucas suggested a trip into the woods – mushrooms grew in abundance underneath the large, old trees deep in the forest, peeking out from underneath the fallen leaves. Lucas was knowledgeable of edible species, picking gypsy mushrooms, porcini and a few chanterelles. They returned to Lucas's home and enjoyed a couple more beers, with Lucas preparing _smørrebrød_ and _leverpostej_ with bacon and sautéed wild mushrooms. 

Will wasn't sure what it was – if it was his contagious joy or how he looked at him, or maybe it was the alcohol – but he was drawn ever nearer to Lucas. He was happily rinsing their dishes in the sink when Will moved closer, mouth seeking his, and Lucas turned to let their lips brush. 

“You're washing my dishes,” Will spoke against a blossoming smile. 

Something about it felt natural, though Will had to remind himself that Lucas was not someone he knew, not as he had known Hannibal. It _felt_ like he knew him, but it was a trick his mind was playing on him based on what he saw. To his benefit, Lucas seemed like an easy man to know, simple, straightforward, but intelligent and kind. Will grew more insistent and Lucas was rendered useless, able to do little more than encourage him with sweet sighs and a coaxing, curious tongue. They broke apart with heavy breaths, but Will looked conflicted. 

“Will?” Lucas asked in a low voice, his hand still resting on Will's waist, squeezing him a little as if to keep him from moving away.

“We don't have to do this if it's not what you want,” he said then, even though he wanted it, wanted Will's kisses and so much more. He had grown to care about Will already, so much so that he didn't know how to explain it. 

They were still too close, and Will leaned in again just slightly, unable to make up his mind just yet. Lucas’s lips met his again in a soft, sweet kiss, and Lucas felt a heaviness in his chest to think that it could be their last. 

He knew Will didn't want to stay, didn't want to get involved. Maybe Lucas shouldn't want it either, especially with a man from far away who had a mysterious past that Lucas knew nothing about. But Lucas _wanted_ to know. Wanted to know more about the man who had died, the one who looked so much like him. Wanted to know about Will's scars, and wondered if Will had any others he didn't have the opportunity to see. 

When Lucas pulled back this time, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Will's mouth, and another to the scar on his cheek. He could see the conflict in Will's eyes, even stronger than before. 

“You still think you'd be bad for me, don't you?” Lucas asked with a soft smile. 

"I know I would. Besides that, I... I've still got one last stop. But I appreciate everything you've done for me." 

Will could see the moment realization dawned on Lucas – that he was getting ready to leave. He was quiet, his expression hard to read. The guilt crept up on Will slowly. 

"You need to get to Copenhagen," Lucas replied, and there was a solemness to his tone that had not been there before. "I can point you in the right direction." 

"I'm sorry to leave so soon.” Will hoped to soften the blow. "It was nice to meet you, Lucas. Thanks for your kindness and hospitality—staying with you has definitely been a highlight." His face grew warm with the memory of the night they shared together. A part of Will still couldn't believe his luck – that he'd stumbled upon a near perfect doppelgänger here in Denmark, let alone one at all. But Lucas was more than a stand-in for Hannibal. 

He deserved to be treated that way. It was part of the reason Will was leaving, but it was proving harder than he'd expected. 

"Good luck with your son." 

Already packed and ready, Will knew he'd reach Copenhagen in good time if he left now. 

“Thank you.” Lucas forced himself to accept that Will was leaving, and offered him a smile. “May I at least have your phone number?”

The request was harmless enough.

❖

Though it took a few tries, Will managed to hitchhike to Copenhagen with an absence of probing questions. With Lucas's instructions it was easy enough to reach. A kindly local by the name of Emil was happy to give him a ride, only later admitting that perhaps he'd had a little too much triple cherry _gløgg_. Emil spoke decent English – he was jovial and keen on making conversation despite Will's less than approachable disposition. Will spent the majority of the drive listening to an enthusiastic explanation of the Danish concept of _hygge_ , thoroughly relieved when Emil dropped him off at the edge of the city and they went their separate ways.

The city skyline was marked by twisting spires and towers that rose up high into gray, wintry clouds. Will knew it was another city of prominent history and rich culture, with Renaissance and Neoclassical castles, Baroque and Rococo churches, palaces and pleasure gardens. Those were the ticket – what he felt would bring him closer to Hannibal than anything else. 

Green parks and lakes not yet frozen over dotted the landscape, and the peaceful, cozy atmosphere was unexpected in such a lively city. Will stopped at a tourist center for information, and thought to purchase a citypass which included tickets for travel by railway, metro and bus. The weather seemed colder here – even more frigid than the small village Lucas had hailed from. Will reached into his backpack for a warm hat and gloves, blowing into his hands as he made his way to the nearest bus stop. Public transportation offered a charming civilian view of the city, and took him straight to the heart of Copenhagen. 

To his relief, it wasn't until Will reached Hotel D'Angleterre that he was really given a second glance by those around him. Side eyes and sly glances. He'd caught a few pairs of eyes darting to his various visible scars, politely looking away as not to stare for too long. It didn't make him feel self-conscious – instead, he felt a twisted sense of pride. Set apart from the rest, survivor of another world with murderous intent. He was an outlier. 

Thankfully Will didn't have to get by on broken Danish – almost everyone seemed to know English, and spoke it well. Will booked a suite overlooking the square and tried to settle in. He was welcomed with an elegant bouquet of fresh flowers, a selection of fine wines and assorted chocolates. It was especially ample for a single person, but he was used to occupying space by himself. There was a mounted animal head with dark, twisting horns in the corner of the suite – he'd seen one just like it in the living room of Hannibal's Baltimore estate. He felt him here, in many ways. 

But when Will's mind drifted to Lucas, as if a solution to his woes, he tried to sever the connection. A part of him still wasn't sure if what he'd experienced had been _real_. As it was, he couldn't seem to get Lucas out of his head. Perhaps he'd only been an apparition. 

Approaching an open window, Will could see _Kongens Nytorv_ clearly: a picturesque plaza with bronze statues at its center. The quaint, charming waterfront of _Nyhavn_ was close by, the canal lined by lavish mansions and colorful townhouses on either side. Will’s location was enviable – he was in walking distance of a number of attractions, including museums, theaters, restaurants and shops. 

Against his better judgment, Will took to the streets of Copenhagen soon after checking in to see what he could see. He'd be exhausted the next day, but looked forward to a relaxing night in a deluxe king size bed. He hoped for a soft mattress and sheets that weren't too starchy, but he would have traded the luxury for another night in a well-lived home. 

Will stopped at a nearby department store for some warmer attire, then had a few drinks at a local bar: mulled wine and whiskey. As the day grew darker, twinkling fairy lights lit up every street corner. Copenhagen's lights were welcoming and warm, but as the sunlight faded Will wondered if the city had a dark underbelly of its own. What was the crime like? Did they suffer gruesome murders? It seemed unlikely. He couldn't help but people watch, everyone wearing a smile, looking almost exasperatingly happy. He supposed that's what he got for traveling Denmark. The only smile he had was the one across his belly. 

Will made his way back to the hotel – there were only so many lovestruck couples he could stand to see. Upon returning to his room he nursed a bottle of complimentary house champagne, ordered room service and ate quietly on the balcony. He took a long, hot shower in the grand bathroom, and when he retired it was with thoughts of the harbor, the gentle flow of waves behind his eyes lulling him to sleep. 

The next morning, Will took advantage of the hotel’s impressive breakfast buffet. In town he noticed that the city's many cyclists weren't at all deterred by the cold, and there seemed to be a holiday market open at Tivoli Gardens. In an effort to distract himself Will crammed as much sightseeing as he could into the next few days, visiting three churches and imagining Hannibal's delight should they collapse. Rosenborg Castle boasted stunning interior and grounds, the Crown Jewels a highlight, with other royal treasures, tapestries, paintings and a collection of medieval artifacts adorning the rooms. _Rundetårn_ was another stop, a rounded observatory tower offering a beautiful view of the city, but amidst it all Will felt lonelier than ever before. He found himself wishing he could explore Copenhagen with someone, have a guide to keep him company and elaborate on what he was seeing. 

And yet, it was hard to imagine Lucas, modest in dress and unfussy in the way he lived amidst the opulence of grand castles, museums and opera houses. He would have liked to indulge in life’s simple pleasures with him, hunting and fishing in the chill of winter. 

On his final day Will found himself drawn to _Strøget_ , the busy pedestrian street, and he strolled past the old squares of _Gammeltorv_ and _Amagetorv_ , stopping for lunch at a nearby café. 

The City of Spires was a sight, he hadn't expected less. But the closest Will had gotten to Hannibal was not here, a sprawling metropolis of light and color. Here, without Hannibal and without Lucas, Will Graham was painfully, utterly alone.

❖

The passage of time was reduced to a crawl with Will’s absence, slower than Lucas was used to. Will had been a vibrant interruption to the mundanity of his life – now things seemed duller. Lucas was unable to keep his thoughts from shifting to Will, unsure if he were even capable of doing otherwise. It didn't matter. He wondered if Will would stay in Copenhagen, or go somewhere else after that. If he would return home to the States. His chest felt heavy. It'd been a long time since he'd felt so enamored.

He tried to move on, working during the day, playing with the kids at the kindergarten, spending time with his friends and not mentioning Will at all. Marcus called again one night, informing Lucas that he would move in with him by December. It was very good news and Lucas knew he was lucky – the only thing that could make him happier would be having Will with him. 

One day, Lucas was passing by Klara’s house on his way to work when he saw her sitting alone outside. 

“They're fighting again?” he asked – it felt different to speak in Danish after speaking English so much with Will. Now it almost felt as if it all had been a dream. She nodded in response, and Lucas could hear her parents shouting inside the house. It reminded him of the last years of his marriage with Kirsten. 

“What if you come with me?” he asked her, and she nodded again. Klara never talked much. Lucas took out his phone and called her father. 

“Hello, Theo, it's Lucas,” he said as his best friend picked up the phone. The yelling inside the house stopped. 

“Lucas, hi.”

“Hey. Is it okay if I take Klara to the kindergarten today?”

“Sure. Is she with you?”

“Yes, she's here, outside.” Lucas watched Klara as she looked down sadly. 

“Thank you, Lucas,” he heard his friend answer. 

“No problem.” Lucas hung up and put the phone back in his pocket. He offered Klara his hand and she took it, and they started walking together in silence. 

“Lucas, what happened to that man?” Klara asked after a while. “That man you helped and took home with you?”

Lucas took a breath before answering, his mind immediately wandering to how it had felt to touch Will on his couch, lose himself in his kisses. It felt like it had happened weeks ago. 

“He went to Copenhagen,” Lucas said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He hoped Will was happy, but _he_ didn't feel happy about it. 

“Is he okay?” Klara asked then, as they approached the kindergarten. “He didn't look okay…”

“I believe he is okay now, yes,” Lucas said, and she didn't ask anything else, for which he was grateful. He wasn't sure if talking about Will made it any easier. 

He had a nice, normal day at work. 

At night, when he was ready to leave, he heard Nadja calling for him. 

“Lucas! Would you like some coffee?” she asked, getting his attention. Lucas had the distinct impression that she liked him, but he couldn't say he felt the same way. 

“Sure.” Lucas didn't feel like going home right now and being alone. Every time he was alone at home he wanted to call Will, but he wasn't sure if he should do it or not. He knew that it was still too soon. It would be best to wait a little longer. After all, if Will had wanted to talk to him, he would have called. 

“I'll make the coffee, you do the dishes,” Nadja said with a smile, pulling Lucas back to reality. He agreed. 

They had coffee together in the kitchen. She talked about her life, and Lucas told her about Marcus. He didn't tell her about Will. He wasn't sure if he wanted to share it, and didn't feel like explaining that he had feelings for a stranger who stayed in his house for one night. It was best to keep it to himself. 

But they had a nice time regardless, and as they left the kindergarten together, still talking and laughing, she gave him a piece of paper with her phone number. Lucas wondered if she had been keeping that piece of paper in her pocket all day, waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it to him. 

“Call me,” she said with a flirtatious smile as Lucas put the paper in his pocket. He returned the smile, thinking about what to say. He wasn't sure if calling her would be a good idea. 

She didn't seem to mind. She cupped his face with both hands and moved closer, looking into his eyes. 

“You're cute,” she said then, and leaned in to kiss him. 

As her lips touched his, all Lucas could think about was how much he missed Will; how it had felt to kiss him. How much he missed Will's lips, Will's hands, and the conversations they had. He even missed Will trying to convince him to keep his distance. Will had left, and it didn't make sense for him to be so attached to a man he had spent just one night with, but it wasn't something he could control anymore. He pulled back, breaking the kiss. 

“Nadja…” Lucas started, but didn't really know what to say – or what he should do. Technically he could kiss her, go on a date with her, even spend the night with her if she wanted to, but it just wouldn't feel right. He hadn't been in a relationship with Will or anything of the sort, but in his heart and mind, at this very moment, there wasn't room for anyone else. 

“I’m sorry,” he said then. He wasn't sure if he could explain why he was apologizing without mentioning Will. Thankfully, he didn't have to. 

“It's okay,” she said, nodding. “You've been through a divorce recently, that's probably a lot.” 

The problem wasn't the divorce at all, but Lucas didn't correct her. 

“Keep my number anyway,” Nadja said with a smile. “In case you need a friend.”

But the days passed, and Lucas didn't call her. He contemplated the thought one evening after work, but realized he didn't feel much like talking. So he decided to just feed Fanny and then prepare dinner for himself.

He ate alone with Fanny lying at his feet, as he usually did after his divorce. Just as he got up to start the dishes, the doorbell rang. Lucas sighed. He wasn't particularly in the mood for visitors tonight. But Fanny ran to the door and barked, so Lucas followed her, opening the door and trying not to look too depressed. 

Will Graham was standing there, right in front of him.


End file.
